Never had White's, that historic club, gathered beneath its roof a

more distinguished company; dukes, royal and otherwise, elbow each

other on the stairs; earls and marquises sit cheek by jowl;

viscounts and baronets exchange snuff-boxes in corners, but one and

all take due and reverent heed of the flattened revers and the

innovation of the riband.

Yes, White's is full to overflowing for, to-night, half the

Fashionable World is here, that is to say, the masculine half; beaux

and wits; bucks and Corinthians; dandies and macaronis; all are here

and, each and every, with the fixed and unshakable purpose of eating

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and drinking to the glory and honor of Barnabas Beverley, Esquire.

Here, also, is a certain "Mr. Norton," whom Barnabas immediately

recognizes by reason of his waistcoat and his whiskers. And Mr. Norton

is particularly affable and is graciously pleased to commend the

aforesaid flattened revers and riband; indeed so taken with them

is he, that he keeps their wearer beside him, and even condescends

to lean upon his arm as far as the dining-room.

Forthwith the banquet begins and the air hums with talk and laughter

punctuated by the popping of corks; waiters hurry to and fro, dishes

come and dishes vanish, and ever the laughter grows, and the buzz of

talk swells louder.

And Barnabas? Himself "the glass of fashion and the mould of form,"

in very truth "the observed of all observers," surely to-night he

should be happy! For the soaring pinions of youth have borne him up

and up at last, into the empyrean, far, far above the commonplace;

the "Coursing Hound," with its faded sign and weatherbeaten gables,

has been lost to view long and long ago (if it ever really existed),

and to-night he stands above the clouds, his foot upon the topmost

pinnacle; and surely man can attain no higher, for to-night he feasts

with princes.

Thus Barnabas sits among the glare and glitter of it all, smiling at

one, bowing to another, speaking with all by turns, and wondering in

his heart--if there is yet any letter from Hawkhurst. And now the

hurrying tread of waiters ceases, the ring and clatter of glass and

silver is hushed, the hum of talk and laughter dies away, and a

mottle-faced gentleman rises, and, clutching himself by the

shirt-frill with one hand, and elevating a brimming glass in the

other, clears his throat, and holds forth in this wise: "Gentlemen, I'm an Englishman, therefore I'm blunt,--deuced

blunt--damned blunt! Gentlemen, I desire to speak a word upon this

happy and memorable occasion, and my word is this: Being an

Englishman I very naturally admire pluck and daring--Mr. Beverley has

pluck and daring--therefore I drink to him. Gentlemen, we need such

true-blue Englishmen as Beverley to keep an eye on old Bony; it is

such men as Beverley who make the damned foreigners shake in their

accursed shoes. So long as we have such men as Beverley amongst us,

England will scorn the foreign yoke and stand forth triumphant,

first in peace, first in war. Gentlemen, I give you Mr. Beverley, as

he is a true Sportsman I honor him, as he is an Englishman he is my

friend. Mr. Beverley, gentlemen!"




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